


Underneath the Eggshells

by monolaytrist



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, L for Language, M/M, broken relationship, features an abusive relationship if you squint enough, isko!exo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monolaytrist/pseuds/monolaytrist
Summary: ● Tale #361 ●They broke up a long time ago, but one still halts and looks back in search of the other.





	Underneath the Eggshells

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> At this hour  
>  Lie at my mercy all mine enemies.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> ―William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Wings flapped and bird calls were exchanged from above as Junmyeon walked along the sidewalk of a tree-lined street inside his home university.

A lot of sights were new to him, having just returned to visit after six years since he got his degree. Some buildings were renovated, front lawns were improved and roads were paved (lesser this time).

But the noise of the passing cars, the songs of the birds, the falling of the leaves, the murmur of the students and the smell of dried grass, of photocopied pages, of sweat and perfume mingling, of fried food from a street vendor―all of these were much missed and remembered.

He had spent the past hour walking around anti-clockwise the university’s academic oval right after his short talk in his home college, tracing the red bricked pavement with his steps and recalling some of the memories he had associated a landmark with a certain someone.

The shed just outside his college’s building was where that someone would usually wait for him. And they would both walk the path along the oval, passing by the Law, the Engineering and the Music buildings just to get to the university gym, hand in hand in soft conversations and laughter.

Exam weeks made them patrons of the main library. That someone particularly liked it for the place housed his home college’s library―a whole wing dedicated to the Social Sciences―and that it was rather open with high ceilings that nobody would call them out for snoring were they to fall asleep.

  
  
  


He showed his I.D. to the guard, explaining he was to visit Professor Kim from the Political Science department upon entering the building. The corridors all looked similar with similar doors and similar shine on the polished floor that within a few turns on the corners, Junmyeon had deemed himself lost.

Door numbers were in decreasing order as he walked further. The modern look of a hall up ahead with its glass fixtures on the doors called his attention. Junmyeon couldn’t recall having visited the hallway back when he was still a student. Room number 1121 suddenly became room number 2205 when he turned left, as if he had stepped into a different building. The floor had white tiles in the area. There was also a row of potted plants at the side of each door.

By then Junmyeon figured he had stepped into a faculty area. Which department’s specifically, he was yet to find out. He tried guessing by looking at the nameplates on the door for he might have taken the professor’s class before, but the names didn’t ring a bell. Except for one.

He had been staring at the nameplate convincing himself it must be a different person with the same name.

Room 2207: Zhang, Yixing

“Excuse me.” The sudden intrusion of the words had his insides jumping. A guy, a student with a small face reminding Junmyeon of a kitten was standing next to him. A loud, nasal laughter belonging to a friend with similar features played in his mind.

“Are you here to see Professor Zhang?” the student asked, Junmyeon stealing a glance on the I.D the other was wearing shook his head to step aside. Cold air with a hint of vanilla escaped into the hallway when the student [last name Zhong, student number 2016] squeezed half of his body between the small door opening. “Sir? I’m here to submit my paper,” he said and was soon gone behind the door leaving the echo of its closing in the hallway with Junmyeon.

The once steady beat in his chest picked up, dancing with the sound of the seconds ticking from his wrist watch as the murmurs inside the room softened. A blast of cold soon came with the door fully opening and Zhong the student almost barrelled into him. The kid’s small face wasn’t as small at all, being just an inch away from smacking Junmyeon had the younger not stepped back fast.

Black and blue danced at the corner of his vision. His heartbeats syncing with the second hand of his watch by then. Blurred figure moving while the face of the student occupied most of his view.

“I’m sorry!” Zhong said as he stepped aside to let him in.

Junmyeon wasn’t able to say he didn’t mind as the voice from the inside of the room mumbled a gentle ‘careful’ their way, briefly stopping the buzzing in his head.

It started with a feeling when his car entered campus territory, followed with the idea of him―of them―when he walked around. Then came the name on the door. Next the voice he had last heard seven years before.

His gaze fixated on the figure behind the desk. Dark, wavy hair pushed back, round glasses perched on the bridge of a sharp nose, pale face, pale skin on white undershirt layered with checkered blue and yellow collared shirt.

The someone he was just thinking a while back finally had a name and a face, piling papers and books on his desk, pausing a bit upon seeing Junmyeon.

“Hi,” Junmyeon greeted, the sound of the door closing behind him.

“Hello. Have a seat.” Yixing gestured to one of the pair of cushioned chairs in front of his desk while he continued to pile his papers and file them in a cabinet just next to his table. “I didn’t know you’re back.”

“Yeah. Been here for three weeks. It’s all been work for me, though. I just got invited by my college to speak in a conference that’s why the campus visit,” Junmyeon said, looking around the small office, noting the wall of shelved books behind him.

“Are you here for good?” Yixing asked, carrying the piled books on his desk to the shelf and replacing each copy to the gaps on the wall.

“Just for a few months. I’ll be reporting back to the main office in New York once I’m done with my projects here. It all depends, really.”

“Well I hope your projects go well for you,” Yixing said, smiling a pursed smile for the first time since Junmyeon came in.

The tips of Junmyeon’s fingers weren’t as cold anymore and his heartbeats slowed down in a comfortable thump, comfort settling in with the way the conversation was going.

“Thanks,” he said. The curl of his lips upward not as forced as the one earlier. “I still can’t believe that you’re a professor now. What courses do you teach?”

“Mostly general education courses―10 and 11. Also 126 as an elective―” Yixing might have realized Junmyeon’s lost look after glancing back and immediately corrected, “Sorry, I meant, it’s Philosophical Approaches, Logic, and Chinese Philosophy.”

Either way, Junmyeon wouldn’t have much idea about the courses. In fact, most of the philosophical discussions he was familiar with were influenced by the person he was talking to at the moment.

“How long have you been teaching?” he asked.

“More than four years,” Yixing answered, making a different pile on his arm as he picked a thick black book of Existential Philosophy from the shelf. It might be a good discourse if not a crazy idea to talk about existentialism and the crisis knocking at the back of Junmyeon’s mind.

Four years of no contact and Yixing had enlightened young minds as a professor while he chose to work for a multinational company reading graphs and computing numbers. Yixing’s busy classroom versus his barely visited office. And to think Yixing was at the farthest end of being an introvert while he was at opposite end of extraversion. The contrast between their current lives was blatant and huge.

His expression of awe was weak at most when he should already be comfortable. They were both living their dream careers, but it seemed to Junmyeon that Yixing’s life was happier than his.

“Have you met with Minseok-hyung?” Yixing soon asked, returning to his desk as he brought his black backpack on top of it to put his books inside.

“I was looking for his office when I got lost and passed by your department. Then I saw your name.”

“His office is in the next building. At the back of the hall annex,” the professor supplied. Maybe it was the reason why Junmyeon couldn’t find the department. Yixing soon hefted a black box overflowing with papers and piles of blue exam books; the cover of which with a note ‘to be graded’ perched like an awkward top hat.

“I can walk you there. I’m on my way to the parking anyway,” Yixing offered as he gestured to Junmyeon to head out with him.

“Do you need help?” he asked when the other took two tries opening the door with his hands full.

“No, I’m fine,” Yixing quickly answered, waiting for Junmyeon to exit his office, locking the door behind them and leading the way down the corridor.

Pavilion 1 was mostly for the Arts and Letters departments, while Pavilions 2 and 3 were mostly for the Social Sciences. Pavilion 2, where Junmyeon got lost in, was for the History, Philosophy and partly Geography departments. These things he learned during their walk around the building, Yixing pointing to the rooms and sights inside which were done or improved in the past four years.

“That pond used to have a turtle,” Junmyeon said as they passed by the small garden area where students tend to spend their lunch breaks at. Looking at the pond was a good break for his eyes, too, which had been staring at Yixing’s back since the other decided to walk ahead of him.

“It’s still there. I saw it the other day,” Yixing said and Junmyeon caught the small amusement on his face as his dimple creased a bit. A funny memory, most likely, and something Yixing would animatedly tell him seven years ago even if Junmyeon wouldn’t ask for it.

Junmyeon’s stomach clenched at the thought of the past. Of the small things no longer parts of his life. He thought of things which possibly replaced them and he still couldn’t think of any, even when they were already outside the east exit of the building.

“You just go straight from here and head to the second floor of that white building,” Yixing gestured with his chin, arms getting red from the stuff he was carrying. Junmyeon should have just insisted and carried it for him.

“I’m just going to ask Minseok-hyung to lunch. Are you free?” he asked, hoping the other would join them.

“No, sorry.” Yixing then bade him goodbye and continued his walk towards the parking area, his back getting smaller as Junmyeon stood to watch him leave.

“Yixing!” he finally said the name out loud. The other looked back, a questioning look on his face. “The guys are going to have a get-together tonight. Do I get to see you there?”

“The one Baekhyun organized?” Yixing asked to which Junmyeon answered with a nod. “Yes, I promised him I’d go.”

“Okay, see you later,” Junmyeon said, his chest full of an inexplicable, positive feeling that made his grinning easier and genuine.

  


  


The all-meat dinner was an appetizer to the drinking which followed soon after. The place was noisy to begin with but became noisier when their group occupied the long table in the corner of the small bar and grill near the campus.

Junmyeon would consider it a rare reunion. Their group of nine friends completed after a seven-year drought. He was seated at the center, between Minseok and Jongin who were each busy stuffing their mouths with food. Chanyeol being seated across him was by no means modest, scarfing down the three slices of pizza from the pan in front and flushing it down with a couple of gulps from his bottle of beer.

Sehun, seated to Chanyeol’s right was trying to hold a conversation, but the noise drowned his soft voice that he chose to frown instead and drink his beer in silence. The seating arrangement was amusing, the corners being the four pillars of silence if only Minseok swapped with Jongdae. Sehun of the north-west, Jongdae of the south-west, Kyungsoo of the south-east and Yixing of the north-east. Three of which have the servings of alcohol halved while one had barely touched his glass of bottomless tea.

Junmyeon downed a shot of vodka he ordered which made the wide-eyed giant across him whistle. Minseok took this as a challenge, an age-old tradition of theirs being sworn brothers of a college fraternity, that he ordered for a whole bottle of the drink and shared some shots with him.

Work was mainly the topic of the night, a drunk Jongdae revealing about some stupid acts of his office mates in the ad agency he was working at and Baekhyun calling him out because they were working for the same agency.

It became rowdier when the conversation veered to throwbacks, after Baekhyun fought the plate of pasta with Chanyeol saying nothing had changed at all―Chanyeol, albeit his high-paying job as a musical director still acted ‘like a starved pig’. Jongin was slap-happy next to Junmyeon until Kyungsoo reminded that he was ‘like a starved dog’, too. Sehun was giggling before swigging a drink while on the other corner Yixing was equally amused, although his constant checking on his blue leather wrist watch didn’t go unnoticed. Junmyeon and Minseok downed another shot in the midst of laughter. It seemed like nothing had changed at all.

An hour later, Jongin had fallen asleep next to him, Kyungsoo was looking on ahead most likely trying to listen in to the hushed conversation between Baekhyun and Yixing across, Chanyeol was still trying to clean up the leftovers, Sehun was no longer in the table, Jongdae was on the bar trying to pay for half the tab for the second time because he was too drunk to remember he had already done so the first time and Minseok had excused himself to get some air. Nothing had changed, really.

He was on his sixth shot when Yixing stood from his seat and after squeezing Baekhyun’s shoulder, went straight to the barkeeper, pulled out his wallet, had a short argument with Jongdae, left a few bills and headed out.

“Where is he going?” Junmyeon asked, his chest pounding as if his heart was the only thing alive inside it.

“Home,” Chanyeol supplied, munching on the unfinished chicken from what was once Jongin’s plate. “He is Xingderella. Has a curfew. When the clock strikes 10, the magic disappears.”

He hurriedly filled his glass for a seventh shot, downed it and stood up to head outside. His nerves thrummed in response to the cold air that greeted him in the parking lot. Minseok’s inquiry on his way out was a soft memory when he walked towards the black Volkswagen Tiguan, opened the door to its passenger seat and made himself comfortable once inside.

“Hey,” he soon greeted the surprised driver.

“Hey,” Yixing returned. “What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t able to talk to you tonight.”

“It isn’t important, is it? I have to head home.”

“Where do you stay?” he asked, getting Yixing’s address as the answer which he tried to commit to memory; although his pickled brain was rather information resilient at the moment. “My building is on the way. Mind dropping me off instead?”

“Okay. Just tell me once we’re near,” Yixing agreed and soon reminded, “Seatbelt, please.”

  
  
  


The Friday traffic made the trip longer, giving Junmyeon enough time to just stare at the driver next to him and remember the moments when Yixing would fetch him drunk from frat parties back when they were still together in college. The memory made him sigh, and so did the view next to him. Yixing had always looked so damn attractive in front of the wheel.

“Is it true you have a curfew?” Junmyeon asked, the silence far too comfortable to his liking.

“It is.”

With this he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.“Your mother finally issued you one?”

Yixing shook his head. “Mama has always been liberal… so, nope.”

More giggles came out as he found the way Yixing called his mom always adorable. “A boyfriend, maybe?” he guessed. His chest suddenly too little to hold air for him as relief washed it down with the way Yixing shook his head. “A girlfriend―” Junmyeon was about to joke until there was a slight curl on Yixing’s lips that made his head and chest spin in opposite directions. “God! Really?!”

“Someone more than that,” Yixing answered.

It suddenly became still in the vehicle, Junmyeon's smile hanging awkwardly on his face. It was an answer he wasn’t anticipating at all. The other just looked so independent. And happy being alone. He had not heard any news of marriage from their group.

Junmyeon genuinely hoped a bit that once he was back they could―no, he should mind the sudden blurring of his vision first.

“Since when?” he carefully asked. If Yixing was receptive he’d know Junmyeon was both dreading knowing and not knowing the answer.

“Five years ago.”

Seven years ago was when they broke up, both on their senior years in the university. Six years ago was when he graduated, an academic year later than intended and after a few months he left for America. Five years ago was too soon.

“No way,” Junmyeon indignantly shook his head. “No way. That’s totally unfair.”

“What is?”

“Don’t you think less than a year is too soon for you to be moving on? Because I’m still stuck in where I had been six years ago with you.” His throat tightened and the back of his nose stung. “This is so unfair.”

“You’re drunk, Junmyeon. We are not having this conversation,” Yixing said. The sudden coldness in his calm voice pushed Junmyeon to retaliate.

“Is it still my fault? Is it still my fault I can’t forget about us?”

“We’ve talked about this before.”

“Yet I still don’t understand! You were saying we are both responsible why we didn’t work out but why does it feel like it is only my fault?”

“I think you need to forgive yourself first.”

The not drunk part of him, which was barely relevant, agreed. His mind went back to that night he easily gave into someone else’s advances. Just because he was lonely and because he wanted to see if Yixing would actually care. And maybe that was Junmyeon’s biggest mistake―not the one-night betrayal―but pushing the other completely to doubt the whole thing between them. The memory of their last few nights together before the break-up was that of the other crying when he thought Junmyeon was asleep. This worried Junmyeon greatly then, having not known the reason for Yixing to be constantly down.

Until Junmyeon couldn’t handle the guilt and the fear of losing the other that he admitted his mistake. It took him a while to say but it somehow brought a bit of relief to finally let it out. But only until Yixing returned his admission with a pained smile, saying, 'I have known. I was just waiting for this'. Junmyeon's apologies were drowned by Yixing's murmur ‘let’s break-up’ in an unreadable gaze. A white flag on top of all the countless red flags Junmyeon had unmindfully raised and Yixing had learned to silently notice, count and collect.

Junmyeon then couldn’t accept that the relationship was suddenly over like that. He expected Yixing to be mad, to be mean, to unleash the bad and blame everything to him. But all he got were forced smiles from the other and forced conversations just because they had the same set of friends after the break up. He thought that if he were to give Yixing some space, Yixing would come back and they would be okay once again. But the space Junmyeon had provided had only become bigger over time, that Yixing became too distant to reach not just by him but even by their friends.

“I won’t leave this seat unless we talk. You know my tolerance. I may be a bit emotional but I’m not as drunk as you think. So talk.”

Yixing blinked, not leaving his eyes on the road. “I am all ears.”

“Why――You’re deliberately being passive about this!”

“You have just raised your voice at me.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry." Junmyeon raised his hands in defeat. “Yixing, how about my past mistakes? Let’s say I messed up so bad and everything is my fault. Have you forgiven me?”

“Forgiveness is something I give to those who ask for it. If you have before, then I believe I’ve long forgiven you.”

Yixing’s answer left Junmyeon’s jaw hanging low in disbelief.

“Then why does it feel like you haven’t? It feels like I’m still being punished. And you’ve always been evasive. You’ve always wanted me to approach you first so we can talk and when I do you suddenly don’t want to.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“I’m always trying my hardest to understand you and this is what happens all the time. Why are you like this―”

Words were cut when Yixing suddenly swerved and slammed the brakes. “Seven years and you ask the same old question. It had me wonder whether you actually tried understanding me at all,” he said and after taking a deep breath, he turned to Junmyeon with a sigh, gaze hard that Junmyeon straightened in his seat. “You know what the most logical answer for you is? If yes then stop trying.”

“Then what? I still have feelings for you. What am I supposed to do with these? It feels like now you don’t really want me here. You don’t really want me back―”

“I don’t want you in my passenger seat in your current state spouting bullshit with your alcohol breath. And I don’t give a damn whether you’ve returned to the country or not because if I did, I would have known and taken all the measures in avoiding you.

“My civil treatment is not me being evasive. I just believe getting upset is irrational and allowing you to make me upset more than once would say a lot about my intelligence. The last time I was upset I was deplorably unproductive I had tried killing myself and it’s a time and state I don’t want to happen again. You’d never want to be accountable for that kind of me as you are now and had always been.

“Your silence means yes. You agree. We’re clear, yeah? Now get out,” Yixing said, his hands shaking when he pushed to unlock the door next to Junmyeon from his side.

“You’re being judgmental. I still love you, it’s true, and it hurts being easily disregarded like this,” Junmyeon admitted, bringing a knuckle to swipe at his nose.

“I would love to have a conversation about disregard if only we weren’t too tired to hold it. It has been a long day for the both of us, Junmyeon.”

“I’m sorry―”

“Please get out now.”

It wasn’t until Junmyeon was on the side of the road, the door slammed to a close and the car was driving away that the tears started falling like the beginning of a drizzle, big drops on the pavement that nobody wanted and everybody wanted to escape from. Even he wanted to escape from them, his wobbly legs trying to run, after the black SUV in the distance, after its owner whom Junmyeon had once again failed.

His throat hurt from calling out a name repeatedly into the night, his apologies swallowed by the sharp cold air as he willed to move his legs faster. His limbs soon gave up, sending him skidding on the rough road.

His eyes stung faster than his palms, producing a fresh batch of tears spilling to the side of his face. The asphalt around him blurring, like huge mirror of the grey blue sky devoid of stars.

He had long known about the starless sky, where the artificial city lights were too bright for the speck of fires in the sky to beat. The stars chose to hide, after people chose to look at the closer yet phony versions of them.

And Junmyeon was one of those people. The only star he knew had long left him. Alone. Cold. And snatched of hope.

His vision swam in darkness, around and around and around until the rumble of passing traffic and the blinking of lights blurred and softened to reveal silence.

  


Hazy vision on the yellow lighted path. A key and the door opened to a loud thud on the floor.

“Daddy!” a voice called and Junmyeon smiled widely. Her voice so soft and halted to a gasp.

He wanted to open his heavy eyelids but it was too bright. Too bright. Even Yixing’s back was too bright. Too broad. He knew Yixing’s back. He had always stared at it way before they got together during college. He sniffed smelling the light scent of detergent mixed with a bit of sweat and car freshener. Yixing’s smell had always been subtle, so light. He tightened his hold around Yixing’s shoulders, burying his face into the warmth.

Junmyeon remembered Yixing had always carried him home from frat parties if he couldn’t carry himself anymore. It was always the case, and it seemed like it still had been after so many years.

“Oh no, a big scrape,” the little girl said, looking at Junmyeon’s palms while he was laid on the sofa.

Droopy eyes and pouty lips on a little girl’s face. Junmyeon had always known he and Yixing would have a beautiful daughter. They had talked about it before, no matter how impossible. Their sweet, small baby.

Junmyeon tried to pass the pooling of tears in his eyes as an effect of his coughing. At some point the coughs became real after he almost choked on his spit. A shaky breath was let out as a tear fell from the corner of his eye.

“Daddy?” the girl called, holding his hand lightly. “Does it hurt?” she asked, eyes worriedly looking at him.

No matter how innocent the question of his little daughter was, sobs started leaving his mouth as he pressed an arm to cover his eyes. It hurt. He was hurting. Because his stupid brain was showing him what his life could have been had he not fucked everything up, wasn’t it? Because he so wished he and Yixing were living the life they both dreamed having. That this were true and not some projection of his brain that would stop once he’d wake up.

  


  


The smell of toast and texture of the rough surface underneath his cheek woke Junmyeon up. His body was sore as he tried to recall what had happened last night. He was drunk, he was sure of that, and his brain was too tired to think at the moment. His mouth was dry and his bladder was close to bursting.

A soft tinkling of a bell passed by as Junmyeon looked around the room he was in. There was the television mounted in the middle of a stylized wall of shelves filled with books. There were some cases of PS4 games neatly filed in the shelf under the flat screen, next to the console. A shelf of DVDs next to it. And books for most of the wall and shelf area.

Somebody was in the kitchen and Junmyeon moved to figure out who took care of his wasted self. He trudged his way to the small area and almost groaned at the scene which greeted him. A head of dark wavy hair, a familiar back in black tank top.

Yixing used to prepare them breakfast often. His bed hair untamed and just wearing a loose tank and boxers while cooking. Some fried cuts and toast. A cup of coffee for Junmyeon and tea for him. Readings and lots of cramming in the early morning. Sleepy, stupid jokes and lots of grinning and pinching of cheeks. Junmyeon sighed at the sudden memory.

“Morning,” he greeted, a bit surprised at his hoarse voice. Yixing just muttered a reply without looking back. “Can I use the bathroom?” he then asked carefully, afraid that he was overstaying his welcome.

“It’s the door to your left,” Yixing answered, briefly looking back to Junmyeon and gesturing. He was wearing his glasses and Junmyeon was tempted to ask since when but he guessed that it was not a wise idea. Not with how clipped and cold Yixing's answer was and the fact that the man was holding a hot pan.

Junmyeon followed with his gaze and found a door on the corner. He thanked the other but before he could take a step away from the kitchen, Yixing said, “You can leave right after if you’d like. I can offer you breakfast but I’ll have to ask you to clean yourself up before you join us. Clothes are on the coffee table. No need to return them.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. Grabbing the pile from the small living room table, he hurried to the bathroom and sat on the bowl to calm himself down. Hangover always came with regret and Junmyeon was no god to be spared from it.

A knock on the door made his butt jump on the toilet seat, Yixing’s muffled voice outside told him that the toiletries available for Junmyeon to use were already prepared on the sink. A small box of soap, a box of complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste from a hotel, all placed on folded white towel. Junmyeon smiled bitterly, his gaze falling on the pile of clothes in his hands. The white basic shirt was still in its packaging and so was the pair of black boxer briefs. He did not have to guess the pair of black jogging pants was barely used.

The things offered to Junmyeon were new. This uncanny unfamiliarity made him heave a sigh. He had always known Yixing was impossibly nice. But Junmyeon was not expecting the other’s niceness could hurt so much when it was directed to him.

A soft mewl which echoed inside the small space had him jumping in his seat the second time. When he pulled the shower curtain to the side, he was subjected under the judging gaze of a grey cat with bright green eyes.

“Hello,” he greeted, not knowing what to do because first, he wasn’t expecting Yixing to be keeping an animal inside the house; second, he wasn’t expecting Yixing to be keeping _a cat_ inside the house.

The feline just blinked at him and refused to move from the bathtub; enough time for it to occur to Junmyeon that Yixing was already living with someone. The lavender coloured containers in the bathroom were just the few signs of it. And maybe the person was a cat-person; it made sense they’d get along well with Yixing, considering that the latter had cat-like personality.

“Do you mind if I use the shower?” he carefully asked while the cat only licked its paw as an answer. When he had fully taken his stinky clothes off and was close to shivering, it was then that the house pet gracefully jumped out of the tub and moved to clean itself on the lidded toilet bowl.

“I’m not really welcome here, am I,” he muttered, sliding the curtain to a close, the sound of running shower filling the silence of the small space.

  
  
  


The grey cat was by the door by the time Junmyeon got out of the shower. It looked at him with its 'oh hooman what a hooman’ look and Junmyeon didn’t have to wait as he hurriedly put on the clothes by the sink just so he could let the cat out and spare himself from its staring.

On a side note, he should thank the cat for the attention, for this straightforward judgment, when its owner had barely spared Junmyeon any look which lasted for more than five seconds. Except for the time last night he had summoned a furious Yixing because furious Yixing had the tendency to not break gaze when striking people out.

Just when Junmyeon was about to open the door, he heard a soft opening of another door outside followed by a murmur.

“Daddy?” somebody called. Junmyeon breathed in as he recalled when had he heard the familiar voice. It was from what he thought was a dream last night.

“You’re up early,” he overheard Yixing said while the voice greeted good morning. “It’s Saturday. It’s okay to sleep in and wake up later,” reminded the man.

“Daddy, too,” the little girl’s soft, yawning voice answered. There were some soft steps outside, Yixing’s grunt and a soft mumble how the small one had gotten heavier. Junmyeon felt like he was invading such a moment with the way his insides stung.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Yixing, the sound getting softer, and Junmyeon decided it was time to stop listening in to the conversation and finally let themselves, most importantly the cat, out of the bathroom.

“No.” The little girl shook her head and buried it into the crook of Yixing’s neck while her father pulled out the chair from the dining table and sat them.

Yixing settled the child on his lap while he hand-combed her long hair and tied it with the light purple band on his wrist. She said a soft thank you while facing her father, her eyes barely open as she rested her head on a familiar white bunny stuffed toy she was hugging between them.

“Bad dreams?” Yixing continued to ask, giving her forehead a soft kiss.

The little girl shook her head and settled the bunny plushie on her side so she could cuddle Yixing closer. “Daddy came home late last night,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

A soft tinkling passed by Junmyeon’s legs, the grey cat making itself known to the two as it rubbed itself on one of the legs of the chair the father and daughter was on. Discontented with its older owner’s greeting to it, the cat soon jumped to occupy the chair to Yixing’s right.

“I forgive you. Juexing forgives you, too,” the little girl said, patting the soft bunny she was holding and turning towards the cat. “Søren… I don’t know. Do you, Søren?” The cat mewled at the sudden attention.

“Do you want your hot cocoa now?” Yixing tried to move, only to be halted by the girl's arm tightly clinging to him.

“No, thank you. I’ll go back to sleep first,” she said, making herself comfortable, her cheeks on her father’s chest.

“Shall I bring you back to bed?” The question only garnered a whimper and a shaking of head from the child. Yixing was about to pick up his opened book on the table until he noticed Junmyeon awkwardly standing in the living room.

“Help yourself,” Yixing told him, glancing towards the kitchen. Junmyeon nodded and walked quietly to find an empty mug ready on the sink. “Mugs are there. Warm water is in the dispenser. Packets are on the counter should you want something.”

“Daddy, you’re noisy,” whined the lump cradled by her father.

“I’m sorry. I’m just telling the guest how to get his own drink because I can’t move around if you are going to sleep here.”

Junmyeon stole a glance towards the two after getting hot water and returning to the sink. Yixing’s back leaning on the chair while the little girl’s thin legs dangling on his side. The scene was too warm and painful in his chest.

Yixing had always said he wouldn’t be ready for a child, but if he’d ever have one, he’d like to have a daughter. Even told Junmyeon to tell him once Junmyeon was ready to get pregnant because they could try. It was of course a stupid joke, but Yixing did say after that though he couldn’t see the possibility of having a child yet, the idea was enticing if it would be a family with Junmyeon.

And then, this. The ideal family Yixing had always wanted was realised. Junmyeon didn’t need to guess it was the life Yixing had always pictured―teaching in the university, a home and a family. Still, Junmyeon’s chest ached at the reality that he needed to accept he was not a part of the picture. Maybe he was, back when Yixing was in the process of building his dreams and they were still together. But he was no longer.

Everything still boiled down to Junmyeon and his wrong choices.

The black liquid swirled in the mug, the teaspoon hitting its final clink as he stopped stirring. A pair of eyes, gaze curious were felt until he looked at Yixing’s direction again and saw the girl peeking from her father’s shoulder.

“The hurt-gege,” she whispered but loud enough for Junmyeon to hear.

Yixing tried to cover her eyes with a hand and said in an equally whispery voice, “Shhh, staring is rude. I thought you were going back to sleep?”

Junmyeon had to experience the full-on silent staring of the kid when he joined them in the table. Then there was the pair of green eyes from the creature seated across him. Yixing’s attention was on the book he was reading until he had to remove his gaze from the pages and look somewhere faraway to think.

It wasn’t until Yixing’s gaze landed on the mug Junmyeon was using that he had this troubled face and had to squeeze his eyes for a moment as if doing so would erase the expression. Junmyeon was about to ask the matter, but Yixing was soon telling his daughter he’d get her her mug and water.

The little girl was left in Yixing’s seat, her small eyes studying Junmyeon until it fell on the mug.

“Daddy’s mug,” she muttered, as she threw Junmyeon her curious look again.

Junmyeon’s gaze darted towards the kitchen, realizing Yixing’s expression earlier and his mistake for assuming that the mug on the sink was for him to use. An apology was on its way when the girl’s question caught his attention.

“Do they still hurt?” Her eyes now on the bandaged hand Junmyeon was using to hold the mug with.

“Were you the one who did this?” he asked, looking at the flesh-colored adhesives covering a part of his palm.

“Daddy did. I and Søren helped.” Junmyeon looked at the cat upon hearing the answer, the creature’s gaze was on the older owner in the kitchen.

“I see. They don’t hurt anymore. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered, noticing Junmyeon’s gaze on the rabbit she was holding with her arm. “I’m Zhang Xueying. This is Juexing and that is Søren. What is your name?”

Junmyeon had known Juexing, the dirty white rabbit plushie Yixing had gotten as a present when he was younger and brought with him to the dorm. In the craziness of it all, Junmyeon was at some point Juexing’s other parent when he and Yixing were still together. Junmyeon had never adored a stuffed toy more than his then boyfriend’s rabbit child.

“Kim Junmyeon,” he answered, getting a nod from the child and a soft 'nice to meet you’. Søren the cat stood up on its seat when Yixing was coming back to the table with two mugs, a small tray of sugar cubes in a container and a packet of choco, anticipating its owner’s attention which it did get when Yixing carried Søren to place on the next chair.

The guy then had occupied the seat across Junmyeon’s in the table and the small set-up with the child, the pet and food in the breakfast table felt surreal. Xueying was kneeling on her chair, following careful instructions from her father in making her own drink. The surface surrounding the small mug was dusted a bit by the brown powder but it wasn’t as messy as Junmyeon was expecting from a child.

Yixing’s eyes were on his daughter, a small, proud smile on his lips when Xueying managed to finish mixing her own drink and tasting it with her teaspoon. Junmyeon couldn’t help but stare at the man across and before he’d get caught, he decided to give the child his attention as well.

“Your mug is nice, Xueying,” he said, noting the stubby additions around the mug as legs and the protruding design on the side for the neck and head of what seemed to be a brontosaurus trapped in a ceramic work.

“Sauropods are cute. Do you like dinosaurs?” Xueying asked while busying herself by putting jam on a toast. When she finished, she put the finished sandwich on her father's plate and made another one. Yixing didn't fail to murmur a thank you while his eyes were on the thick book on his lap, his hand bringing the plate of eggs nearer to his daughter without looking up. It seemed like it was the routine in the household, with the way the two’s movements were in sync.

“I’m okay with them. I like Triceratops,” he answered after Xueying got the two eggs from the plate, one for her and the other for her father, and placed the serving plate on her side closest to Junmyeon for him to take.

“We can be friends,” she said, picking up her spoon to scoop a part of the egg white from her sunny side up. “Daddy likes dinosaurs a lot, too. You can also be friends.”

Junmyeon found the remark funny, the grin on his face growing as he then threw the man across him a glance. Yixing was unperturbed in his reading, but asked, “Did your teacher teach you that?”

“She said if two people like a common thing, they can be friends. If you like more things together you can be better friends.” She nodded as she bit into her toast.

Yixing moved to close his book and put it on the table. Søren took this as opportunity to occupy his owner’s lap. The pet’s provided distraction did not faze Yixing, and he even patted the cat to settle down, which proved how loved the grey feline was in the house. Kierkegaard was one of Yixing’s favorite philosophers in the first place and it shouldn’t be surprising that the cat bearing the person’s name would not be unloved.

“That’s a very simple way of saying it,” Yixing told Xueying.

“Friendship is not compyulicatedid,” answered the daughter after swallowing the egg and toast she was chewing.

“You made it sound complicated,” Yixing pointed out, finally picking up the toast on his plate and biting at it. He had the child follow him syllable by syllable which Xueying did well, until she had to repeat the whole word and it still wasn’t so easy on her tongue.

Xueying pouted, making Junmyeon’s insides thrum with adoration and pain, as the little girl’s lower lip jutted. God, Yixing’s genes were blatant in the child. “You like comupleecatided things, Daddy,” she answered.

“How come?” The indentations on Yixing’s cheeks were peeking, a challenging smile on his lips was threatening to break out as he was chewing his food and looking at his daughter. Junmyeon knew that expression of Yixing’s; always witnessed it during arguments back in the days when it would just be the two of them sharing breakfast together.

“The guy on TV said chickens are dinosaurs. I talked to my teacher about it. I told her you love dinosaurs a lot! But you are scared of chickens! She said it’s compleecatided,” reasoned the child.

“What do you think?” coaxed Yixing.

Xueying’s little brows were almost knitted on her forehead, her face sour with what seemed to be injustice in a child’s point of view. “I think she didn’t understand my question. You love dinosaurs, Daddy. Chickens are dinosaurs.”

“Therefore?”

“Therefore you love chickens,” was Xueying’s conclusion. Even Junmyeon was convinced that he nodded along to the child.

“‘Chickens are dinosaurs’ is not a wholly accepted school of thought. For your logic to be valid, chickens being dinosaurs should be believed by many, not just by the scientists who lobbied the idea,” Yixing explained while booping his pointer finger on Xueying’s cheek because the little one was denying her father’s statements with an adorable face scrunch.

“That is compleecatidid, Daddy,” she told Yixing.

Before the man could launch on another rhetoric, Junmyeon cut in with a soft cough, earning Yixing’s attention. “I think what your daddy is trying to say Xueying is, that there are things yet to be proven so a lot of questions can’t have their answers right now.”

“So compyulicated,” muttered Xueying, back into her round of sandwich making, but this time putting a slice of luncheon meat on the thin spread of jam. Junmyeon wished the sandwich wasn’t for him. “Søren is already looking at me funny. See now, gege?”

  
  
  


Junmyeon was still able to stay a bit after breakfast. Xueying showed him her collection of games from the console and pointed out which Juexing the rabbit favored most. A few pictures on display were on the shelves: Yixing carrying a small baby in one; another of a woman smiling with a happy looking toddler; a baby Xueying hugging Juexing while asleep. Xueying was proud when she told Junmyeon about her pictures and it brought a soft smile on his face as well.

He had so many questions for Yixing, some things he wanted to ask but he guessed he wasn’t supposed to given their status and considering Junmyeon didn’t know what Yixing thought of him now after their fight last night.

It was time to leave as well, seeing that after Yixing had finished clearing the table and washing the utensils in the kitchen, the man went back to the table and continued to read his book instead of joining Xueying and Junmyeon in the sofa area.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” he said before heading out, Yixing was holding the door for him with an unreadable expression. Junmyeon’s grip tightened around the paper bag containing his clothes. “I didn’t want to upset you with the things I said. But I guess I did.”

“You’re forgiven,” Yixing answered.

“And thank you for taking care of me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Please extend my thanks to your wife,” he said, earning a pursed smile and a nod from Yixing.

Before the door closed behind him, he turned back and held the knob, leaving a small space open between them.

“Yixing? After everything we’re still friends, aren’t we?” he asked and he didn’t mind if it came out a bit shaky. Junmyeon guessed the answer with the way Yixing’s face hardened. Or course they were no longer. “Or at least can we still be?”

“You said it yourself. There are questions yet to be answered,” Yixing returned.

And they need to be proven first. Junmyeon nodded and forced a smile on his lips. “Right, I did,” he admitted.

The least he could be feeling from the turn of events was hope. It could be considered a rare chance, he and Yixing not talking for years and their sudden meeting was like each of them thrown to walk on eggshells around each other. At least now Junmyeon knew where to start.

A soft echo of the door closing in the hallway had Junmyeon taking in a deep breath. It would be okay for finally he had found solid ground.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been written with a person in mind.
> 
> Thanks to M[h] for providing me motivation to write this story―a sort of closure for the pairing of a certain college au―and for letting me prove in another creative way that all along I had been the only one writing for the two of us. This is the most honourable form of diss they’d get, something I presume they’d once again fail to provide an answer for. Words do tend to fail those who never meant them, especially from those of the least responsible kind. Much _love_ (in the Hegelian sense of the word if you want me to be specific).
> 
> ●
> 
> Dear prompter for 1001, may this work be what we both signed up for. 
> 
> Thanks to 1001’s mods blue and mint, S and all the readers of this story.
> 
>   
>  _No permission was asked from nor granted by the 'prompter of the (isko) au' which this story has revolved in. As much as I would like to give prompter n credit for making the basic profiles of the characters [EXO members], credit still goes mostly to each of the handlers of the accounts [including yours truly; if you've gleaned who is talking right now] for developing each of the characters._
> 
> **Do not plagiarize this work.**


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